


There’s a War… but All I See Is You and Me

by hithelleth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be so much easier if... if she didn’t love him, if he didn’t love her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Worst

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the lyrics of “Come Home” by One Republic. Obviously, I don’t own neither that or _Agents of Shield_. No copyright infringement intended.

It is a stupid thing to wish, but if he were able to stop the time, he would freeze them in those minutes when Jemma giggles between kisses before collapsing on the bed and pulling him down with her.

He catches himself on his forearms as not to crush her, and then kisses her again. She moans against his mouth and buries her fingers into his hair as his hand slips under her neck, angling her head just right for him to deepen the kiss, pouring all of himself into it.

When they pull apart, he brushes his thumb over her cheek, and the words he didn’t know he had inside him escape past his lips: “I love you.”

She looks startled for a moment. Then she touches his cheek in a caress and gives him a soft smile.

“I love you, too,” she returns.

“I know.” He sighs, resting his forehead against hers. “This would be so much easier if you didn’t. And I am so, so sorry.”

She frowns, but he doesn’t give her time to speak or act, taking her wrists and pinning her arms above her head with one hand, gently, but firmly.

“Take a deep breath.”

She does just that, be it from bewilderment or shock, stuttering as she exhales: “Wh – What?”

He ignores the question even as he sees her putting two and two together.

“Calm your mind. You know what is best.”

Her eyes go wide with the recognition of what is happening.

“No! No, please don’t…” She writhes under him, trying to get free, but he doesn’t let go even as he has to swallow a lump that forms in his throat. Instead, he captures her chin between his fingers and makes her look at him.

“What is best is you comply.”

He can tell the exact moment when she gives up the fight as her heart breaks, and his heart – it appears he has one, after all – hurts with hers, but he goes on, nonetheless.

“Compliance will be rewarded.”

Her features go blank, the spirit vanishing from her eyes.

“Ms Simmons, are you ready to comply?” He loosens his hold on her.

“I’m happy to comply.”

Her smile is an empty, mechanic movement, and something inside him rips apart at the sight of it.

He wants to hold her close and tell her that everything will be just fine, that she is not lost forever, but – and that is the worst thing – now he _can’t_ even touch her. He pushes the pain away, though, and gets off of her.

She sits up, watching him expectantly as he stands and straightens his clothes, and he has to make an effort to keep his voice cool when he speaks.

“Good. Now…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes, I’m a terrible person. 
> 
> So, this started as fluff, but then it somehow turned into angst in 0.5 seconds. I have a bit of another chapter written and I feel like I could (should?) continue past that but as of yet I have no idea how and much less when.
> 
> However, comments help with motivation (and inspiration) and are always welcome. So, please, tell me what you think.


	2. Distraction

_Unlike most other operatives, scientist were not only more resilient to programming but also significantly less efficient at their work under its effects. That was the sole reason Sunil objected to Mr Whitehall’s proposition to trigger Jemma’s programming._

_“I don’t think it’s necessary, sir. Ms Simmons is being very cooperative.”_

_Whitehall looked up at him with a glint of surprise in his eyes. A warning that he should tread carefully._

_“I disagree. From what Ms Morse says,” Whitehall glanced at the report in his hands, “there are certain indications Ms Simmons may not be entirely truthful about her allegiance.”_

_“Yes,” Sunil conceded. He had himself seen the signs that raised his suspicions._ And let them pass. _A fact that was better left unmentioned. Instead, he pointed out the practical reason against the proposed measure: “I would just like to remind you that the Faustus method affects intellectual capacity of highly intelligent individuals.”_

_Bolstered loyalty and minimised propensity for defection came at the expense of reduced self-initiative and creative problem solving, since thinking outside the box went against the very essence of programming._

_“I am aware of that,” Whitehall granted. “However, in Ms Simmons’ case, I believe that the risks of her disloyalty outweigh the results of her work for us.”_

_Sunil inclined his head in agreement, choosing not to comment on the statement._

_“So, will you take care of it, Mr Bakshi, or should I find someone else?”_

_Sunil schooled his face to remain expressionless under Whitehall’s scrutiny, even as anger flared up inside him at the thought of someone other than he having that kind of power over her, over_ his _Jemma. The question was really an order, anyway, and there was only one correct answer._

_“No, sir. I will do it myself,” he replied, although his throat felt dry._

_“Excellent. I know I can always count on you.”_

_There was an undertone in Whitehall’s voice that reminded Sunil of the conversation they had had just a few days ago._

“Ms Simmons has not become too much of a distraction for you, has she? We do have ways to help with such distractions…” _The threat — since when had he thought of it as a threat? — had been left hanging in the air._

_He knew all too well what Mr Whitehall had implied and his blood went cold then and just now, when he thought of having her and everything he felt erased from his memory._

_He confirmed Whitehall’s words without hesitation, though: “Of course. Will that be all, sir?”_

_“Yes. Thank you, Mr Bakshi.” Whitehall turned away, his focus already on another matter._

_“Sir.” Sunil nodded, taking the cue to leave._

_Only when in his office — he didn’t even turn the lights on, the night skyline offering enough light for him to pour himself a drink — he allowed the thundering beat of his heart wash over him._

_He had never had any qualms about programming, and the idea of triggering Jemma’s — no, Ms Simmons’ — shouldn’t have upset him, not when he was the one who had put her through it in the first place._

_However, that had been before._

_Before he saw how brave she was in face of danger. Before he learnt the way her eyes sparkled when she found a solution to an impossible problem. Before he started finding the tell-tale signs of her attempts at lying rather charming. Before he knew what it felt like to bury himself inside her after he had coaxed an orgasm after orgasm out of her._

_Before…_

_Sunil finished his drink, noting his pulse had calmed down._

_He looked out at the city, examining his options, then strengthened his resolve: no matter how loath he was to trigger her programming now, trying to delay or avoid it would do neither of them any good, quite the contrary. It was best to get on with it. The sooner the better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn’t obvious, this chapter happens before Chapter 1. Apparently I started to write this story from the middle, so the plan is for odd-numbered chapters to deal with the present – future timeline and the even-numbered chapters to go from present – past. I have no idea if and/or how I will pull this off, but the good news is that I’ve thought of a possible ending and having an ending in mind always increases the chance of me actually finishing a fic. So, I’ll try.


	3. Temptation

Summoning Turgeon and Ms Simmons to follow him to the conference room, Sunil spares her but a glance as he strides past her.

It is just as well that he can’t quite look at her. He had been all too close to slipping before Mr Whitehall ordered her programing be put into effect, had almost let his emotions out on full display like a fool and ruined everything he has worked so hard to achieve. This works for him, he reminds himself, puts him back on track.

He can tell himself so all he wants and call her _Ms Simmon_ s in his head, but it does nothing to ease the knot of sickness that twists in his stomach as she flashes a pleasant — and so wrong — smile to Mr Whitehall’s welcoming her joining them with the standard “happy to comply” response.

After the meeting, Mr Whitehall compliments him on the job well done. “It seems the Faustus method left Dr Simmons’ intelligence largely uninhibited, enough for her to still be of use to us, after all,” he observes.

Sunil has to put a conscious effort into keeping his posture neutral and _not_ clenching his jaw as he concurs.

He is not supposed to care.

That becomes his mantra, one he has never expected he would need, one that is useless when Jemma — to hell with Ms Simmons — passes him in the hallway and stops him, seeing that it is empty save for the two of them.

“Mr Bakshi?”

He but ignores her, walking on, but he likes to think that he is not a coward, and besides, it might be something important.

“Yes?” He turns around.

He is not prepared for the suggestion she makes.

“I’ve been thinking… whether we could perhaps spend some time together again? To have sex, I mean.” She adds the last part somewhat hastily.

As he stares at her dumbstruck, at loss for a response, she continues: “I understand we are both busy, but it is important to have some down time, and I liked it with you, and I believe that was mutual, so —”

That last, babbling part sounds almost like her. Yet, she is _not_.

The manner of broaching the subject is not completely unlike her, but he can tell the subtle difference the moment she speaks, nonetheless: the absences of both some of the nervousness that used to be there whenever they talked in the professional environment and the familiarity she got used to when they were alone.

He interrupts her rather sharply: “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Oh.” Her face falls.

He balls his hand into a fist, restraining himself from reaching for her. Because he is tempted, so tempted. But _that_ is the one thing he won’t add to the reasons she will hate him for.

“It is only that now we have other priorities to focus on,” he reminds her. It is just a prod at her programming, but it works, her features clearing in an instant.

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. Now, if that would be all?” He makes the dismissal in his voice clear enough for her to note it at once and take her leave.

He, however, needs long, strained seconds to make himself not follow her but walk the other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait. Chapter 4 coming right up.


	4. Bliss

_Sleep weighed him down with unrelenting persistence even as Sunil detected Jemma slipped from under the covers somewhere at the back of his mind._

_The loss of contact… soft padding of her feet towards the bathroom… water running some time later… the sound of her steps returning…_

_The wait for her to re-join him in bed stretched endlessly._

_Sunil dozed off until the soft light in the room got through to his consciousness, making him peer from under hooded eyes and scan the room._

_The bedside lamp on her side was on as well as the one standing in the corner. Jemma was curled up in the armchair beside it with her feet propped up, balancing a notepad on her knees. She was quite a sight, wearing nothing but his shirt, only a button in the middle done._

_Minutes passed as he watched her scribble away until she paused, biting the end of her pen in contemplation._

_He cleared his throat as much to alert her to his being awake as to find his voice, which was, nevertheless, rough with sleep when he spoke._

_“And there I thought I was good enough to have knocked you out for the night.”_

_She flinched ever so slightly, taken by surprise, and for a moment she looked like she was about to scowl at him — perhaps he should have picked his words more carefully — but then she gave him a small, wry smile._

_“Um, you have. Although, sometimes I can think a lot more clearly after sex and I‘ve come up with this idea I thought better to write down at once lest I forget it by the morning.”_

_“Hmm. So you’re saying I’ve done too good of a job,” Sunil surmised, teasing. He chuckled as she did scowl this time. She might have blushed, too, but he couldn’t tell in the dim light._

_He waited a while, before speaking again._

_“Come back to bed.”_

_She pursed her lips. “Is that an order?”_

_The question was rather playful, spoken with a glint in her eyes. From what he knew, she liked orders, after all._

_He only grinned in response and beckoned her to him, waiting as she jotted down a few more words then put her notepad and pen aside and turned off the lamp next to her._

_Something in the way she strolled towards the bed, with a faint, mischievous smile gracing her lips, made his blood move south as he took her in, all long legs and curves hardly hidden under his shirt._

_His breath hitched when she pushed the covers off of him, climbing into bed. She straddled him, rubbing against his groin, which made his already half-hard cock stiff in seconds. He cursed and reached for her, pulling her down for a kiss._

_Sunil fisted his fingers into her hair with a bit more force than necessary, eliciting a moan from her as they kissed, fast and sloppy kisses turning into scraping teeth and needy tugging at each other’s lips, until he let her tongue in his mouth. He caressed her breasts through his shirt, teasing her nipples, then undid the sole button, pushing the fabric apart so he could knead the soft flesh, rubbing circles around her hard peak nipples, tweaking them now and then._

_She was getting wet, slicking up his cock with her juices, and pulling her hair just a little only spurned her on, making her grind against his cock more urgently._

_His thoughts blurred, those left narrowed to only her, to feeling and smelling and touching… touching everywhere he could reach, his hands roaming over her, sometimes barely brushing against her skin, other times being just on this side of rough, mapping her body yet again and committing it to his memory._

_When he squeezed her buttocks, she growled and then pulled away and sat back._

_He stilled his movements in anticipation as she took his cock in her hand._

_“Jemma…” His voice sounded almost like begging when she slid her hand up and down his cock, tracing the vein with her fingers. She ran her thumb over the slit, already glistening with pre-cum, before positioning herself above him and taking him in, sliding on him all tight and wet and warm…_

_“Fuck…” he swore, swallowing thickly as she began moving up and down, propping her hand on his chest for purchase while she slipped the other between her folds, teasing her clit._

_“So beautiful,” he told her. She was fucking gorgeous, rubbing herself while riding him, her cunt glistening and swollen, small noises escaping through her parted lips, his shirt having slid off her shoulders, her breasts bouncing…_

_He placed a hand on her hip to give her more support as her rhythm became faster and her movements more frantic, then, unable to resist it any longer, got a hold of her hips and started thursting, meeting her every time she slammed down on him._

_She was getting close to her climax, biting her lips, almost whining, her walls tightening around him, first shivers running through her body, making it all but impossible to hold on as he felt the familiar tingling at the back of his spin growing stronger until she threw her head back, slamming down on him one last time, her fingers pressing forcefully against her clit and she shuddered with orgasm, spasming around him._

_He gripped her hips harder, most likely enough to leave bruises, and thrust up inside her, fucking her hard through the waves of her climax, feeling his balls tightening… A few more thrusts, he pushed her hips down one more time, and then he was coming, spilling into her heat in moments of pure bliss, unadulterated by as much as a thought._

_Later — it could be seconds or an eternity — when he came down from his height, he pulled her close to rest on top of him with his cock still inside her. He ran his fingers through her hair in slow, soothing caresses, letting their breathing even out before he moved and pulled out._

_Finding her lips, he kissed her softly, then slipped the sleeves of his shirt off her arms at last, sharing it with her to wipe themselves and ruining it the process, but neither of them liked falling asleep and waking up all sticky, and a shirt was a small price for not needing to move and separate himself from her even if for a short while._

_Sunil let the piece of clothing fall to the floor and pulled the covers over them, turning to his side to face Jemma, who snuggled against his chest and sighed contentedly. He reached over and turned off the light, then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close._

_Just before he slipped under, a thought crossed his mind: he wanted this never to end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope two chapters and this chapter's length make up a little for such a long time between updates. If only I didn't write so many fics at the same time... So, it might be a while again till the next update, but I'll be writing more, just sou you know, the those few of you who are reading this. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments help with motivation (and inspiration) and are always welcome. So, please, tell me what you think.


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